The Good Left Undone
by TheDoeEyedMonster
Summary: WARNING: Contains Triggers suicide Teen!Lock; John arrives in the Ward, meeting the fellow teens who have attempted to take their own lives. First story, forgive me please. Read more about having a continuation.
1. The Good Left Undone

**[It's 5:35 AM and I just finished writing this. At 4:55 AM I finished the book that inspired me to write this. It's called cracked by K. M. Walton; it's beautifully tragic and amazingly written and a little triggering so please read with caution if you are triggered by suicide in any form.**

**I really hope this goes well as it's not a drabble but an actual fic I wrote for Sherlock; even though it's for Teen!Lock and all that and therefore slightly AU.**

**Please read and review, I had the idea of doing multiple chapters and I have a few more planned out but please tell me if you'd like to read more.**

**Thank you~]**

When John Watson was wheeled into the cold room, the blinds of the window were drawn open, and the kind voice of their nurse cooed to him.

"John this is your roommate Sherlock." She introduced them, though the raven haired teen merely sat on his bed and looked out the window. Irene helped John into his bed and told him if he needed anything to just press for a nurse and she'd come.

When she was gone, the soft padding of her shoes to another room, Sherlock spoke.

"The marks on your neck haven't faded yet, and you look too tired to even be functioning. Sleep."

The next morning at 'Group,' how Greg described it (everyone called him Lestrade even though he insisted to be called Greg or Gregory,) John was introduced, wheeled in by Irene. Everyone was eventually introduced. It was mostly their names John new at first, but as days, weeks and even a month or two passed he knew everyone. Mostly.

Jim, a flamboyant looking boy with short black hair and dark eyes jumped from his school building; explained by a cast on his left leg filled with doodles.

Sebastian had been found by his parents with a gun to his head, calmed by his mother but taken here anyway. The blond was next to Jim and it looked like he wasn't moving.

Molly was a mousy looking girl with her long hair tied very neatly had tried to drown herself multiple times, each unsuccessful.

And then there was Sherlock.

Sherlock rarely spoke to him, even though they were roommates. All John knew that his name and that he was very, very smart. Despite his intelligence however, he didn't realize the severity of his words sometimes; which led to Molly running out sobbing during Group one day and Sherlock spending the rest of the day in Solitary. He came back after dinner, sitting alone in the common room while everyone made idle conversation.

John had become friends with Molly, they quietly smiled at one another and spoke to each other while Sebastian and Jim all but cuddled together on the couch. He learned that Sebastian was the one doodling on Jim's cast, intricate designs of tigers and smoke with the one or two sharpies he was allowed to have.

It was in John's second month in the ward when Mary came. She was plain but breath taking. Slightly chubby, the honey haired girl was his age and he learned her story the day she came to group.

"M-My father," she began gently, looking a little tense but Lestrade simply smiled at her. "You're fine, Mary."

So she continued.

John learned a lot about Mary; her mother wasn't around much, and in turn her father looked upon her to do everything. Cook, clean, work; if he wasn't satisfied he'd beat or rape her. Sometimes both. One night she had enough and tried to hang herself and that resonated with John.

When Mary had joined the circle of friends, it seemed that Sherlock eventually began moving closer to them. He would listen to conversations about things the others liked, their own stories, and things of the outside world.

John and Sherlock began to bond in the quiet of the room; through the simple fact Sherlock wanted his jell-o.

"For what?"

"An experiment."

It turned out the experiment was to see if he could make the jell-o land perfectly into the blouse of their nurse.

They giggled at the shocked face of Irene Adler when the desert not only landed in the front of her blouse, but it seemed to slide into her bra by the sound she made, followed by a shriek as she went to the nurses' station. But it was only in their room when Sherlock would smile at John; they'd whisper to each other after lights out and bond a bit by bit before breakfast.

The third month John was there, he finally had the courage to tell his story.

His mother and father had only wanted John because his sister Harriet wasn't what they wanted. Their 'golden girl' was not only a trouble making alcoholic but she was also a lesbian. So they decided to have another child, a boy. But it turned out it didn't matter if he got perfect grades, excelled in sports if he was a 'bloody faggot like his sister.' By the time Harriet was old enough to leave she had already ran off with some girl name Clarice and John was left for the torment of his parents.

He tried to hang himself on Christmas Eve.

John hadn't realized he was crying until he felt the hand squeezing his. Sherlock was there, looking directly at him with eyes like he'd never seen before. So intense and filled with an indescribable color. The other boy said nothing as John wiped his own tears, still holding his hand till group was over, and even after that.

The two stayed after group, Lestrade telling the nurses while John cried and Sherlock simply listened. It was a half hour before dinner when John finally felt calm enough to speak. He wasn't able to look at the other boy, eyes on the floor. "I feel so alone sometimes."

Not even after a beat, Sherlock spoke.

"You are never alone. Not anymore."

And Sherlock told his story.

A family too busy to give him any attention, praised when he did well, scolded when he had done wrong. His father would beat him if he got a B or lower in any test and worse if the grade fell any lower. Sherlock would take drugs while his family was away; it would calm his mind and make everything slow down so he could think without everything blowing past him. One night he had taken too much and overdosed. None of his family knew about his addiction (a lie) and his mother screamed that she loved her children enough to know and that he was just sad and needed help. So he came here.

It was in this room that John could look at Sherlock and finally smile.

It was there that they shared their first kiss.


	2. 1925

They didn't speak much during dinner, eating with the others in the hall. Molly and Mary chatted at their table while the boys had since huddled together at theirs. Sherlock was silent while it seemed Jim had taken an interest in John. He asked gentle probing questions, about things he liked, books and telly; John was kind in answering but gave mostly vague answers before finally just shutting up and eating. Miffed, Jim told Sebastian he wanted to leave and the blond stood, nodded to the others and wheeled the smaller male away.

John and Sherlock shared looks before breaking into giggles, Molly peeking her head up to look at them almost strangely.

"You're not supposed to giggle after domestics, John," she told him despite the smile she was sporting. The girls moved over to the boys and they finished their dinner together. Molly was the one asking questions to Sherlock who usually ignored her or gave her one word answers.

"Have you ever dated someone Sherlock?"

He ate to quell her question. As soon as he swallowed;

"Have you ever kissed someone?"

This made both Sherlock and John blush and Mary gently hit her friend, glaring at her and telling her that it was rude to ask something so personal. Molly simply looked at them both like she hadn't said a thing wrong; stating that they all spoke of their attempted suicide so there was no real boundery she figured. It was silent as John finished his food, wheeling himself into the community room with a nod to the rest of the group. The elder boy looked damn near devastated as the other went into the room.

For once in the last three days John was alone; there was a couch, a few stuffed chairs and even a bean bag chair all around a television they'd watch if there wasn't group or a special day. John pulled himself along before parking against the wall and next to a window that allowed him a view outside and out of the hospital. It was a pretty view actually; a setting sun over a hazy London skyline John could see familiar outlines of buildings and even a place or two that held good memories. It wasn't until the tears fell onto his hands did he even notice he was crying, using his shirt to wipe the tears.

In the last three days his world had crashed, burned and in just one he found five friends and kissed a boy who liked him. If his parents could see him now; crying, laughing and clutching his shirt with the most pained expression on his face. His mind was torn in so many pieces and all he wanted to do was walk. After he calmed he finally realized he wasn't alone in the room, turning to see the familiar face of Sherlock and he was even more at ease. The dark haired teen was perched on the couch arm, watching the blonds breakdown and John couldn't stop the blush of pink over his cheeks.

"Do you want to walk?"

"Wot?"

John looked at Sherlock, trying to get comprehension of the others words and when it hit him, the expression on his face turned from neutral to exasperated. Of course he wanted to walk! He wanted to walk, run, play rugby and swim. John Hamish Watson wanted nothing more than to walk from his room to the dining hall, or from Group. He wanted to kiss Sherlock standing for God's sake. Oh how the boy wanted to scream all of this but all that came out was,

"'Course I do."

And all Sherlock did was smile, slip from the perch he had on the couch arm and move toward John, leaning over to kiss him. John did nothing but respond, humming faintly into the kiss and he even began to lean into it when a feminine voice broke his concentration. It wasn't Irene but the other female nurse Donovan, frowning deeply at the two of them. The woman was a little younger than Irene but more of stick in the mud, and Sherlock had no problem calling her a bitch to her face. Her arms were crossed, curly dark hair suppressed poorly by the ironically placed nurses hat that was tilting to the left.

"Come on, bed time boys. No more of that kissin'," she waited till Sherlock had wheeled John out of the room. Walking behind them the two were silent but even the stoic genius had a blush across those high cheekbones. Once inside the room, Donovan shooed Sherlock toward his side and offered to help John into his bed but he looked to Sherlock and asked if he could help instead. Her hands went up and she backed away, shaking her head and muttering things John wouldn't choose to repeat even in company like his parents.

Sherlock was swift in getting John in bed, making sure he was situated before Donovan went checking him up. She took his pulse, placing her fingers around his wrist and soon moving them over other parts of his body; John realized how thin the woman's fingers were, almost spindly like a spiders as she curled fingers over his ankle. Her words almost startled him, and he had to shake his head and have her repeat them before he realized what she was saying.

"No, can't feel it at all." Donovan tried other places, gentle prods, pinches and even a harsh tap on the knee to stimulate a reflex. Nothing. She thanked him and tucked him in, saying the general thing about if she was needed to press the button and she'd come-a-running and spared not a word to Sherlock before departing. When he felt comfortable, John waved Sherlock over and as if it were the most normal thing in the world the other teen slipped into the bed above the blankets and the two cuddled. Sherlock was bony in places, mostly his points; the knees, hips, elbows and shoulders (don't even talk about those cheek bones; Irene was right when she said he could cut someone with those.)

But for John, he loved the feeling of laying his head on Sherlock's chest and listening to the others heartbeat. The elder seemed content by this gesture, fingers stroking the boys head and they remained in silence. Sherlock could tell John was asleep; deep, even breathing and the absence of a gentle squeezing of one of the hands the boy managed to capture. He was about to move when the smaller male began to stiffen, almost whimpering. Tremors and rapid movement under the eyelids made it clear that John was having a nightmare. He did what any other person would do; pulling John closer to him and placing the boys face in the crook of his neck before beginning to recite poetry, sing, and hum until sleep claimed him as well.

Irene had come to make midnight rounds; gently opening the doors just enough to see both patients to make sure they were asleep. She made no move to wake them upon seeing them, the smile nearly angelic as she saw the two. Irene made a note to trade shifts with Donovan more often so they could be like this; she knew Sherlock rarely slept and knowing that John brought it on made her quiet hopes a little louder in her mind. In silence, she went to the white board on the opposite wall and cleared it of the normal message save for a quote Sherlock had put up on it.

'Alone protects me.'

The nurse smiled, wrote the message they'd read as they woke and did a little tweaking to what Sherlock had written. She wished them safe dreams before exiting and moving towards the other rooms.

On the top, near the date of the new day and who would be their day nurse was the message:

_**John: Physical Therapy starts tomorrow after Morning Group**.'_

And the quote? Alone had been crossed out three times, and written above it John.

**John protects me.**

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**[If you could review and give comments that would be really lovely, I do so love when people critique my work, or hell, even tear it apart.]  
**


	3. Bittersweet

**A/N: Sorry it took so long for the third chapter, but here it is.  
**

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John learned a lot about Sherlock the next morning. One, he hated when people woke him from sleep if he wasn't ready to get up. One of the few rules at the facility was to sleep in your own bed, which of course they broke. Thankfully the nurse that reprimanded them was Irene who mostly snickered and tried getting Sherlock away from the blond; she was hissed at and he tugged at John to pull him closer.

He only released him when she mentioned that she would need help putting him into the shower.

Second, Sherlock's strong hands were also very, very soft. Irene had taught Sherlock what to do; to set the little shower chair in the center of the flat square that made up the shower space and where to set John. Of course, when it came to undressing the blond squawked that he wouldn't allow Irene nor Sherlock to undress him but cool glares from both of them (it was like they had telepathy he swore) and he finally relented. With a little help and maneuvering Sherlock carried the naked John into the bathroom and set him in the chair.

It was almost sad watching John rearrange his legs and set his feet properly on the floor as if they were nothing but spindly parts on a living doll that no longer worked. Sherlock checked the tempature of the water before leaving John, Irene deciding it was better for her to be in there with John no matter how much he protested.

"It's a safety thing, John. Regulations and rules."

Breakfast had arrived while John was showering and while a second nurse smiled and set down the trays, Sherlock was looking at the thirty inch whiteboard written with the dates and announcements.

The third thing John learned in just that morning was he looked very attractive when he was blushing.

Sherlock came into the bathroom chattering about someone messing with his quote and the announcement of the physical therapy. This was just as John had finished; water turned off and he was toweling what he could and Irene helped him change into another pair of dull gray sweatpants and sweatshirt. But when the boy genius entered the room those sweatpants were halfway up his thighs and yes, for the folks at home, Sherlock had a full view of everything John had to offer. It took a one moment, two moments, and after thirty seconds of staring did he finally turn, beet red.

Irene simply chuckled and dressed John, Sherlock helping her carry him back to bed. Once he was situated and blushing out of his mind, John finally asked her about the physical therapy. The woman told him briefly that to ensure he would be able to walk it was mandatory to go every day until he had made a full, substantial recovery. When she told him that his therapist was a cutie, John could feel Sherlock bristle and he laughed a little. Sherlock learned that John was very handsome when he laughed, and it made him smile.

The rest of breakfast passed with silence, the boys would occasionally look at each other, sharing silent smiles and John even winked. Group was boring, though Sebastian seemed to open up a little to them; still holding Jim's hand as he shook. The smaller boy cooed and he would rub his thumb over Sebastian's hand until he stopped speaking. Molly looked at them with something like jealousy and stole glances at a silent to Sherlock, who was mostly paying attention as John began to speak.

"I'm… I'm starting physical therapy today." Gregory asked him how he felt and the teen shorted. "I just want to walk. If that's what it takes to do it then so be it." Mary clapped for him and smiled brightly, telling him she believed in him. The silence that followed was almost strange, filled with an unknown tension. "No one really believed in me," John whispered, and Sherlock touched his shoulder. He deflated and relaxed, remaining impassive.

The rest of Group went by smoothly, small talk and smiles with no tears. As Group came to a close an Orderly came around, clean shaven and bored looking. He asked John if he wished to use the bathroom before he was wheeled away from Sherlock and the others. The two shared almost upset glances as the orderly told them that Sherlock couldn't attend physical therapy with him, leaving the younger teen alone with the others. So while they chat and cuddle together on the sofa and chairs, Sherlock perched on the edge where he was with John last night. Molly watched him helplessly, biting that thin bottom lip before getting up and moving beside him.

"Sherlock…?" When he gave no answer she gently touched his hand and he jerked up, nearly knocking her over. He didn't apologize but he steadied her, intense gaze tearing through her.

"You wanted to ask if I was alright, but you're apprehensive? Why?" With a pause he nodded. "You have a crush on me and you would have liked to see if I wanted to take a walk through the ward and possibly 'let it all out?'" Sherlock laughed at the trembling woman, not stopping when tears came to her eyes. "I'm sorry Molly but I do not love you, nor have any feelings above maybe a colleague or friend. There is nothing here for me, and there is nothing here for you other than maybe recovery. So no, I don't wish to go out with you."

Molly ran to her room sobbing, Mary glaring at him and following close behind her. When the room had left Sherlock, Jim and Sebastian with the documentary about penguins, all eyes were on the curly haired asshole. Sebastian simply watched, Jim nearly giggling as he waved the other over. When Sherlock didn't move the smile turned into a frown and the blond took Jim's hand and kissed it repeatedly as if to appease an angry god. But before Jim could speak, Sherlock had already moved and went into his room. And of course, Jim huffed and leaned against Sebastian, looking back to the program for a moment before kissing the smaller boy on the side of his head.

Sebastian took Jim's hand, interlacing their fingers before kissing and nipping the others earlobe.

"He'll be mine, Sebastian."


End file.
